The consolation of monotony

Someone is knocking at the door. I go to open it. It is a familiar face, my friend. "Hello friend" - I say. He comes in and we sit at the table next to the window. We have a chair, facing each other, from time to time glancing at the setting of the sun.
It is beautiful. The clouds are soft and fluffy. I want to touch them. I slowly and carefully extend my hand to reach one of them.

My friend sips the coffee. I remember and sip it too. Now it no longer is hot. I have added enough sugar and milk. This is the right consistency. I am satisfied with how the things are going so far.
My friend puffs on a cigarette but it doesn't affect me. I like the soft eyes he possesses, how they softly close and ever so gently reopen, maintaining the same field of vision. I feel like I could sink into them. The lukewarm liquid that envelops those gems reflects the colors on the sky, now ablaze. I want to catch fire with them too.
I swallow the last sip of my coffee and rest it on the saucer satisfied. It is time for my friend to go. He gets up and i sand besides him as he quietly puts his shoes on. He is tying the laces. "Goodbye. Thanks for the delicious coffee" - he says smiling broadly.
"You're welcome" - I reply. Please do come again. "I will" - he says. And he shuts the door. I am now alone in my room. I look around.
It's utterly quiet. It is almost night, but I haven't switched on the lights yet. I ought to, but I don't feel like it. I will probably be standing here for some more time, until I want to move again.